


Brutus

by Hotspur



Category: Ancient Roman RPF, Ancient Rome - Fandom, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Murder, Storms, crime and punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotspur/pseuds/Hotspur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rome is in for a storm, and no one knows it like Brutus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brutus

**Author's Note:**

> Back about three years ago I was obsessed with Ancient Rome, and the Assassination of Julius Caesar in particular. This story is one of the many results of my obsession. 
> 
> The story about the horse comes from Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, which was another favorite when I wrote this. Plus I saw a great deal of similarities between Brutus and Raskolnikov.

"Kai su, teknon?"

The words echoed relentlessly in his head. It was as if it were some phrase from a foreign language he barely understood. And yet it was in Greek, with which he was quite familiar. He knew very well what those words meant.

"And you, my child?

It was giving him a headache- no, he did not feel any remorse over his actions. He refused to and would not. It was what was needed- if not done, then the city would be ruled by a king. To commit such a crime as murder went against his principles, and he knew that. He had fought against himself, not knowing with whom he was allied.

Now the fight was over. He believed that the right sight had overcome, that he was right in his actions. He had no reason to question himself now, or his motives, or his method, or any of his comrades and theirs. It had been bloody, yes. But freedom had never come easy or without bloodshed. Just look at history. There had been many instances in which change had been brought about only through drastic measures. A desperate illness demanded a dangerous cure. He had no idea. How many more tyrants would fall in the future?  
He stood, looking out over the city sprawling under him. His vantage point from the temple gave him an excellent view. For now, he was safe. How long, he didn't know.

The rain continued to come down, though it had begun to slack off. The sky was still grey and the air was still cold. He shivered and pulled his bloodstained toga closer about him. It wasn't just the cold that was beginning to get at him. That was minor. He was hungry and tired. He hadn't slept for three nights and he hadn't eaten since the morning he had left home. He usually was a light sleeper and didn't eat much, but now fatigue was catching up with him.

 _She must be frantic,_ he thought. His wife must be panicking over his failure to return. _I wish that I could let her know that I'm safe._ No, he could not send anyone to tell even his wife that he was still alive. _Why _was his next thought. _Because she could get hurt. That's why you held back the plans in the first place. And yet she was hurt. What was it? Where did I go wrong? Should I have told her earlier? Should I have held her one last time before leaving that morning? Stop thinking about her.___

__He shook his head, clearing his mind of all thought of his dear wife, whom he had not seen for four days and who must slowly be losing it in his absence. He thought again about how tired he was, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn. Should he try to get some rest? They had told him he should, but what did they know. He had the world on his mind and was too tired to sleep. Anyways, who in his right mind would sleep at the ninth hour? This was time for business, for work, for getting things done._ _

__Nothing was getting done, though. All that had transpired, all the action, had slowly fell into nothing but a linear stalemate of the senate figuring out what move to take nest. For now, he watched and waited for an outcome. For now, the body of that tyrant lay at the Regia._ _

__"Kai su, teknon?"_ _

__

__Ugh. He shook his head again. Yet again, he saw the dictator turned tyrant fighting against the knives of the murderers- no, liberators. The once all-powerful military dictator who had essentially made himself king was now weakened to the point of breaking. He had almost pitied him, but he could not let his personal feelings get in the way of what he had to do as the judge. That was his rank, that of magistrate. It was his duty to judge the cases- was this man guilty? Was this one innocent? What was the truth, anyways? Who decided it?_ _

__The old tyrant fought back as he was stabbed and slashed. Even as he was blinded by blood as much as his murderers were blinded by hatred and fear, he fought back. When he saw; however, who else had a knife, he lost the will to live. He had gasped one last question and let them kill him._ _

__"Kai su, teknon?" Even you, my boy, would take their side and betray me._ _

___Forget it,_ he thought, staring out at the bleak sky encasing the Eternal City. It's over now. You did it. You stabbed him in his twisted, black heart._ _

__And broke it._ _

___Whatever. He deserved it. You aren't going to go back on it now? Of course not._ _ _

__For a second, hearing those words had made him think that there was something to the tyrant that he hadn't seen. Maybe, as he stabbed him, he saw that aspect for the first and only time. Maybe he had seen the real man.  
He was then helpless, which was fitting. He had been the most powerful general in the world, and now he was dying on the floor of the senate he had duly taken over- like he owned it. He had paid for his ambition, ruthlessness, disregard for the rights of man with his blood._ _

__His mind now went from the events of the morning four days prior and to an incident from his childhood. It had to have been thirty years before. As just a young boy, he had seen some men beating a horse, a poor mare. Of course, to a boy, any horse is the most beautiful thing in the world, and this mare was beautiful to him. The mare had fallen, and was now being beaten. Why was it? Was it for failing to do her job? Was it for, after years of being strong, for falling weak? The horse didn't know, and neither did her tormenters._ _

__He had wanted to cry- to run to the mare and defend her. But what good was a small boy if a large animal was herself helpless? So he, the boy, had stood by helplessly watching as the mare was struck one last time. She died. He didn't understand that violence. His uncle had comforted him over the horrible sight, but it was no use. He had been badly upset by it. He felt this murder of a horse deeply. He knew the results of murder. He didn't have a father, just an uncle, as because his father had been murdered._ _

__He thought of this now because he was now a murderer. The sight of the once-great dictator was the same as with the horse. The memory of the horse had faded, though. It had haunted him as a boy for a while, but finally the pain and humiliation left him. He accepted that he could do nothing to help the horse, so he was not at fault. The memory did not haunt him now- it just presented itself. Anyway, he had not killed anyone who was innocent. He had rid the city, through murder, of a man who was guilty of homicide himself- the murder of democracy._ _

__He shuddered again and again pulled his toga closer. He was beginning to feel weak- no food and no sleep were beginning to take their toll on his once-strong body. Or was it the struggle of his mind that was wearing him down?  
He wearily rested his back on a column, glancing up at the sky. There was only a light smudge given as evidence of a sun. The rain had finally stopped._ _

__He imagined he was back in his wife's arms, or in the library studying the musty old scrolls he loved so much. Anywhere but here._ _

__"It's the waiting that's killing me."_ _

__He turned around. His lean comrade, Gaius stood next to him, his bony hand resting on the column._ _

__"I don't know what's going to happen, and that's what's driving me nuts," Gaius continued, not waiting for him to answer. It was as if Gaius were talking to himself, which may have been the case. "Gah. Just wait 'til the senate votes to kick our lousy skins out of Rome? I'm sick of it, man."_ _

__"I understand," was his audience's reply. "I don't like ignorance either."_ _

__"Hmph. He had us thinking that ignorance was knowledge, war was peace and slavery was freedom," Gaius continued. "I wonder what Antonius will do now. Probably not that much different." Gaius shook his head. Then the lean conspirator walked away, having found an audience and an excuse to listen to the sound of his own voice._ _

__Gaius' audience was now left to his own thoughts. He still stared out at the city. What was ahead? More bad weather, probably. But what was to be expected of March._ _

__The rain was gone, but the clouds still hung over the Eternal City, threatening to open again- just like the havoc and discord with which the city was yet again flooded.  
He knew that his wife was going crazy with worry. His brother-in-law Gaius seemed to be testing the bounds of right and wrong maybe too far. None of the other Liberators had a plan. The wife of the dictator was suffering the violent loss of her husband. A new tyrant seemed to be rising in the first one's stead._ _

__He himself was fighting the eternal memory of the dictator's last words and their repercussions._ _

__It all gave the appearance of a storm brewing._ _


End file.
